World Cup moulds Qatar into a new form

Qatar has never seen anything like it before and it has been waiting to see it -- the FIFA World Cup -- in flesh for more than a decade. And the tiny oil-rich nation has done its best, despite the criticism, to put on its best face to the world for this global event.

Once you land in this peninsula bordering Saudi Arabia, you will start to realise what hosting the World Cup means to Qatar, given its long-held sporting, cultural and political ambitions. There are enormous structures that have sprouted up from underneath the desert, in less than a decade.

For starters, the Hamad International Airport -- a sprawling structure in the capital of Qatar completed in 2014, replaced the Doha International Airport as the premier airport hub of the region and the home of Qatar Airways, to give the nation a facelift. At the entrance of the airport, you are greeted by billboards of Neymar, Harry Kane, Virjil van Dijk and who's who of world football -- all geared to welcome the people of the world to a place which only appeared at this world cup by dint of becoming the hosts.

The next thing you come across is La'eeb -- the official mascot of the tournament -- a cute little thing relentlessly in its holographic form inside glass-paneled tubes. Dressed in the traditional Arab dress, Agal, La'eeb is everywhere around the city, and beyond -- morphing Arab culture and football into one. Although an ethereal figure, La'eeb is the humane face of this World Cup, which has copped its fair share of flak, mostly from the western media, over the oil-rich nation's treatment of migrant labour force and its overall human rights record.

Ever since the World Cup was awarded to Qatar in 2010, this nation has seen a construction boom, spending hundreds of billions of dollars in infrastructure, including seven new stadiums and one renovated, the Hamad International Airport and myriad hotels and other establishments.

One such infrastructure is the Doha Metro, which opened to public just before the pandemic, and made life easier for fans, officials and journalists for the World Cup. Even on a non-match-day, the Doha Metro is full of passengers, many of whom have come just to enjoy the World Cup.

Tomas and his father Osvaldo have come all the way from Buenos Aires to watch what is supposed to be the last World Cup for Lionel Messi. Both wearing Messi shirts, they were going to the practice session of the Argentina team at the Qatar University Ground.

When approached for an informal interview with the introduction that this reporter was from Bangladesh, both spoke with genuine interest, and quite a bit of gusto in their voice.

"I know Bangladesh. I know Bangladeshis love Argentina," Tomas quipped, before getting on to the more serious talk.

"Messi, Messi. Messi is the best," said Tomas, with his father by his side nodding in approval.

At the other compartment were a band of Netherlands supporters, wearing that unmistakable Oranje, and chanting away slogans in Dutch about their heroes.

This is what the organisers had dreamt of when they envisioned the first Arab World Cup a decade and a half ago. People who had nothing to do with Qatar, except for its oil of course, would be here and watch the best footballers on the globe on inside these futuristic stadia. The organisers, apparently, have been vindicated.